


An Exceptional Boy

by Venturous



Category: Breaking Bad
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-28
Updated: 2013-09-28
Packaged: 2017-12-27 20:42:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/983385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Venturous/pseuds/Venturous
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How Walter found his destiny</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Exceptional Boy

Walter Hartwell White was an only child, born eleven years after The War. By the time he was 6 months old he had moved three times. Walt’s dad, Tom White, was a lineman, spending long days out on the road, and sometimes weeks away wiring up the new highways.

A lean and rangy man; you would think Tom White was tall, until you stood next to him and were surprised that you were the same height. He ran away from Oklahoma at seventeen and lied his way into the army, which obliged by shipping him to France. There, in an advance squad, he was one of the first Yanks to move into fresh enemy territory. First they’d blow up the bridges, fall back to let the battle run its course, then move up and build a temporary bridge to bring in the occupying forces.

Towards the end, it’s said, he walked into concentration camp, newly abandoned by the Germans. Seeing the naked, starving prisoners, gas chambers, and stacks of corpses, Tom turned around, headed out, hunted down and shot as many German soldiers as he could find. He shot them in the back as they were fleeing through the woods. Until that moment he hadn’t harmed a soul.

Tom came home worn out at the tail-end of the war. He married Irene, his high school sweetheart. She was a timid little thing, she did his bidding. When it became clear that she couldn’t conceive a child, he was bitterly disappointed. Irene took refuge in the church, and Tom in his work.  
But years later, when they both had sprouted a grey hair or two, Irene took with child, and bore a son. They named him after her father and Tom’s brother Walter who had died as a boy.

====

Young Walter was a curious child. He followed his father around as soon as he could toddle. Tom doted on him, letting him ‘help’ on projects. He made a set of blocks for the boy, and bought him a set of tot-sized tools. Walt learned to read on his father’s lap, from _Field & Stream_ and _Popular Science_ magazines.

He collected rocks and bugs and wanted a microscope for his 7th birthday. As soon as he was big enough to hold a rifle, despite Irene’s objections, Tom taught his son to shoot, first, the BB gun, and then the .22. Walter was careful, precise, and thus a good shot. Tom was pleased, and he took him hunting. 

The first few trips with his dad were amazing. He loved the strategy, the pursuit, and the shooting, but was quite upset about the dead animals. The elder White scolded him:

“Be a man Walter! A hunter takes care of his kill, and provides meat for his family.”

The boy hung his head and promised to do better.

====

Although he loved school, friends seemed few and far between for Walter, probably because he preferred books to sports. When he did make friends it was always short lived; there would be a fight and Walt would come home upset. An irate parent would call and Irene would nod and say calming things. 

“Walter, dear. That was Mrs. Miller.”

Walt looked at the floor, studying the scuffs on his shoes.

“Could you tell me what happened?” Irene’s voice was soft and kind.

“I… we were building this sand cave thing, just playing. You know, with trucks and stuff.”

She waited patiently.

“And Chris he wanted my truck to crash and stuff, and I didn’t, we needed to make the cave bigger, but he wanted to play something else, so I… I left.”

“You just left?” she coaxed. 

“Well, I kinda kicked in the cave. Sorta by accident. Then he couldn’t find his trucks and blamed me.” 

Her heart went out to him.

“Honey, you shouldn’t get upset about these things. Remember these other children aren’t as smart as you are. You are an exceptional boy, destined for great things.” 

She lifted his chin and smiled, looking him right in the eye. He hugged her.

=====

Once young Walter discovered science at school, he began to lose interest in his father’s projects, his classmates’ games. He won a prize in the 3rd grade science fair and begged for a chemistry kit for Christmas. Delighted, he created noxious fireballs in the basement, but was careful enough to do it when both parents were preoccupied, and left no trace.

Tom was hurt by his son’s increasing dismissal, although he wouldn’t have admitted it. He became short-tempered with the boy, and accused his mother of coddling him, turning him into a ‘sissy.” Irene would risk an argument:

“He doesn’t want to go hunting, Tom, he wants to study!”

“What kind of a boy prefers books to hunting with his father?” The elder White stormed about the kitchen. “He’s going with me to Colorado, and that’s that.”

=======

That time, they traveled up into the mountains where the aspen all shimmered gold in the crisp air. Tom shot a buck, felled it clean from 350 yards away, and they hiked down the slope to find the kill. He then forced his son to gut the deer. Walt knew better than to protest, and, fighting not to gag, sawed away miserably on the creature. 

“Now look what you’ve done, you idiot!!”

The blow was hard enough for Walter to lose his balance and he fell sprawling in the dust. Tom yanked the knife away and Walt cried out as the blade cut his hand.

“You sniveling girl! Stop your crying or I’ll…”

Tom shoved Walt’s face into the creature’s open belly, where Walt had cut through the animal’s bowel, mixing the shit and the blood together.

“You stupid shit, you’ve ruined the meat.”

Tom was sneering in disgust. Walt kept pulling away to vomit, desperately trying not to cry. It was the last time they went hunting together.

========= 

In Walt’s 12th year they moved, Tom’s work again taking him west. The schools in Albuquerque had more advanced science labs and Walt talked his way into AP science and took his first college course at 14.  
He found a home through his passion for chemistry. Learning how materials combined, reacted, and changed enchanted him. He loved the precision, the planning, the measuring, and the insight into how the world worked. He was seized with the urge to know why things were the way they were, in the most irrefutable detail possible. 

But it was the drama of transformation that truly moved him. The first time he created metallic crystals with electrolysis, he was smitten. He was there at the moment of creation. He felt god-like, as if he could brew life and the universe right there in the lab. 

Irene was so proud of her boy. But his father was sullen and argumentative with him. He badgered Walt about his chores and loaded him up with more. When he insisted Walt change the oil on the family cars, he stood over him and made sarcastic remarks about how clumsy the boy was, how he’d never amount to anything.

“Son, you’re tuning up the truck with me this weekend,” Tom announced one night at dinner.

“Dad, I have a science camp sleepover in Los Alamos on Saturday. I won’t be here.”

Tom hit the table with his fist, making the dishes jump.

“God Dammit, can’t a man ask his son for a little help around here? What do you think it takes to be the man of the house, huh? Your sissy books gonna help you with that?”

“Dad, this is important…”

“Tom,” Irene laid a gentle hand on her husband’s arm.

He flung her hand off, which sent her spoon flying across the kitchen, where it clanged on the floor. With his raised arm he threatened her.

“Shut up, woman. You’re the one who turned him into such a bookworm.”

From her automatic flinch, Walt could tell he had hit her before.

“Dad!” the boy stood up abruptly, looking shocked. He grabbed his father’s arm.

And the elder White slapped him so hard his glasses flew off and he staggered backwards into the wall, stunned.

“You no-good pansy! Get out of my sight!”

Tom White stormed out of the kitchen, slamming the screen door behind him.

========

Walter graduated a year early with honors, but his father never once acknowledged his accomplishments. It was left to Irene to try to make up for it, and she tirelessly doted on Walter, giving him everything she had to support him. The gulf between her and her husband seemed unbridgeable.  
Now that Walter was leaving for college, she would have to find a way to fix that. But for now, she was so proud of her boy. 

Irene walked out the driveway with him. He wrapped her in a full body hug. 

“Mother, will you be alright? Are you sure you won’t come with me?” 

He held her frail shoulders, searching her face. Irene held back her tears and smiled at him.

“I’ll be alright, darling. Drive carefully, and write to tell me how things are going.”

She sniffled a little. Walt brushed a greying strand of hair from her face. 

‘If he hurts you…”

Irene put her finger to his lips.

“Shush, he won’t, it’s alright dear. He just gets in a mood, you know.”

Walter was sure that was a lie, but he humored her.

“Forget writing, mother, I will call you as soon as I get there and let you know I’m OK.”

He climbed in his dull tan AMC Pacer wagon, loaded to the roof, and left her waving at the curb.

=====

College suited Walt; he felt giddy with the freedom – to think, to read, to work. And the lab facilities thrilled him. Now he could really learn.  
He paid as little heed to his classmates as possible, for he found them annoying at best. The dorm, throbbing with bad music and reeking of beer and vomit disgusted him. He negotiated a single room as soon as he could, and was rarely there.

He didn’t return home to Albuquerque, not even for holidays. He knew it pained his mother, but he didn’t feared the inevitable conflict with his father would get taken out on Irene. He spoke with her every week, reassuring her that he was busy with so many important things. 

“But son, please, you must come home for Christmas!” He could hear the desperation in her voice.

“No, mother, if I stay here I have a chance at this really amazing scholarship, I just have to get the application in. It’s really detailed and I won't have time for it until I’m all done with finals. I’m sorry, mother, I’ll send you something, you know I will.”

"Oh honey, I don’t need anything, I just want to see you.” was she crying?

He felt like a heel.

“Why don’t you take a trip, come and visit me, Mom, like for Spring Break? I can take you to so many great places!”

Her hesitation worried him.

“No, that’s okay, dear. Your father wouldn’t... he couldn’t get by on his own. You just get your work done dear and come see us when you can.”

Walt feared he might kill his father if he saw him again. He certainly wanted to. The power of his rage frightened him. At the same time he still feared his father, and he was determined to be a better man than Tom. How he could ever become a father himself. Did he have this in him, this poisonous hatred ready to explode toward his own children? He vowed he would never be that man, and postponed another visit home.

=====

It was March when Irene called to tell him his father was ill. Walter waited until Tom was in the hospital to make the trip. 

“You should go see him Walt. He asks about you.” 

“I have no desire to see that bastard, mother.” 

He could see the bruises she had tried to hide with makeup. He hated himself for leaving her here, alone with him. 

Looking around the house everything looked small and sad. His old room was filled with boxes and stacks, redundant household things stored neatly but filling the space. He peered into some of the boxes and found half of them were empty. Some were filled with folded plastic bags. Twist ties. margarine tub lids. There were blankets enough for 10 beds. 

Even the smell of the place was wrong, as if it had died long ago. Dust, old soup, tears; this was no place like home. As he lay awake through the night he wished his old man would die, he would get his mother out of here and get her a nice little apartment. She could live near him at school. Finally, he slept. 

A few days later Tom came home, and Walt was shocked to see the man. Pale, and skeletal, his father barely had the strength to hold a spoon. the old man barely made eye contact, and there was no challenge there.

When had his parents gotten so old? Walt kept busy as long as he could but eventually ran out of reasons not to talk with his father. He sat next to him and felt pity stirring with his rage and fear, a toxic mix that rose bitter in the back of his throat. He had no idea what to say to this man.

“Dad. How are you?”

“Not so good, son. This thing is pretty much kickin my ass.”

Tom wheezed.

Walt fought the urge to take his hand. 

“Son, they say this thing is, not contagious, hereditary, yeah, thats the word. That you might have it too.”

Walt nodded. 

“I read about it, Dad. I might have it, or not. Or, I might just pass it on to my kids.”

They were silent for a long while. 

Then they both spoke at once:

“Remember when we went….” “So how is school, son? Your mother tells me…”

And it wasn't quite a laugh, but at least a smiling moment between them, until the elder White was seized by coughing. Walt tried to help him sit up, and his father flailed his bony arms around ineffectively trying to swat him away, and Irene bustled in.

“Thats enough now, you’ve tired him. Leave us to rest now, there, that’s better.”

She glared at Walt and he backed away, then busied herself soothing and tucking and settling her patient. 

Walter called his girlfriend. 

“I think I’ll be staying a little longer. I’m sorry, it’s just, it’s a situation here.”

He nodded as she spoke to him, reassuring.

“So you’ll explain this to Evans? Sure, I’ll call him myself, of course.”

He smiled.

“I miss you, too. So much.”

And closed his eyes, better to imagine seeing her soulful face, always welcoming him. 

“Love you too, Gretchen. Goodbye.”

He shuddered imagining her in this place, this dismal, small and sad house. He never, ever wanted her to know where he came from.


End file.
